


Beginning

by Waitlist



Series: Waitlist's DA Collection [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Elven Faith, Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 13:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11105868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waitlist/pseuds/Waitlist
Summary: Every hero starts somewhere.(based on a prompt: beginning)





	Beginning

The hacking cough grated her lungs, dragging through her throat as she breathed in, and paralyzing her in pain as she breathed out. She knew she couldn’t hide in here forever. A weak, grieving part of her wanted to stay in the aravel and rot, instead of facing everyone outside. They would all see how she’d been crying. A creaking movement behind her alerted that someone had come inside, and she only knew one person left who it could be.  Her mother’s voice was hoarse but soft, words not quite reaching her ears, yet she recoiled and hunched tighter over her knees as another cough attacked her.

“Aevani, love, I know you’re hurting. I’m sorry about your lethallan. The whole clan mourns him…”

“You weren’t there,” Aevani ground out, “I _encouraged_ him, mamae. If I didn’t get so wound up, if I hadn’t--” More coughing cut her off, and her mother’s hand rested on her shoulder.

“Let the shemlen fix your sickness. You weren’t meant to die blaming yourself for the chance at another life, da’len.” Aevani was pliant as her mother pulled her into her arms like a child. “Ren mixed up a vial for the lungs. Take it.”

She accepted the strong-smelling potion, downing it. “Why would Falon’din take Tam, and not me?”  Aev still wouldn’t look her mother in the face as she mumbled, “I was his Dirthamen. _I_ was the stupid, irrational one, but I knew he would do whatever I asked--”

“Aevani,” her mother said sharply, startling her into looking up. Fear passed through her mother’s eyes when she took in her daughter’s sickly complexion. Her usually tan skin was pallid and white; slightly red and puffy at the cheeks where she had been crying, and pulsing grey veins visible around the edges of her brown eyes. Neither looked away, but her mother’s voice carried on without severity.

“Do not doubt the Creators, Aevani. Perhaps you just have a stronger body. Perhaps Ghilan’nain neglected to watch as you took a shadowed path. But do not forget: one with faith knows they have taken Tamlen for your _shared_ mistake, and left you to fix what has been undone. You are stronger than this sickness and you _must_ now follow where they lead.”

“They ask me to go with the shemlen?” She asked quietly, gazing at the decorated ceiling of the aravel.

Aevani’s mother smiled down at her. “That is for you to decide. Don’t get lost in the sweeping tides of history. Shape them.”

With that, Aev rubbed at her eyes, let out a weak sigh, and stood. Her head spun and ached for a few moments, leaving a dull pain under her skull. To be over with this disease would be a blessing in itself, she thought.

“Ma serannas, mamae. If...if I go, who will lead the dar’misaan? You would be carrying the Mahariel name alone.”

“The clan and I will miss you dearly, but we won’t intervene in your path,” she stood, and added, “I’ll be fine, love.”

“Well,” Aevani cleared her throat, which turned into a rib-shattering fit. Through coughs she still tried to smile. “I suppose I’d better pack my things. Tell the Keeper and the shem that I’ll be out in spare minute.”

Before her mother left the aravel, she paused in the doorway, finding her words. In the end, she settled for, “We will have time to say our goodbyes.”

About an hour later, Aevani was sitting atop a horse-drawn cart at the edge of the forest. The Keeper, her mother, and her closest clanmates joined them, bringing favours of luck and faith for her journey to new duty. The shemlen Warden, Duncan, was speaking hushedly with the Keeper. Each passing moment shook Aev down to the core, the disease spreading and pumping ache into her muscles, but she didn’t let her clan see how much she suffered. Instead, she inspired them with words of guidance, destiny, and the Creators, like her mother had done. When Duncan was ready, he joined her on the cart.

“There is much you need to know before we arrive at Ostagar. I can explain on the way, but I must tell you something your Keeper didn’t want you to hear.” He spoke gruffly, and Aevani nodded in silence. She could already guess what he was going to say. “You may not survive this journey. You are strong; I have seen stronger fall in less time. Of course, those people didn’t have the hope and faith of a large Dalish family.” Duncan added with a small smile.

“I understand. Thank you for telling me; I look forward to learning more about human culture, too. My dealings are, unfortunately, limited with slavers and bandits.” Not a whole truth, but it wrought  a barrier of respect for herself. The Keeper stepped forwards before he could speak again.

“Irassal ma ghilas, vir enasalin. Dareth shiral. Mythal’enaste, Aevani.” She recited a line from an elven farewell, Aev recognised, and the rest of the clan repeated, chorusing, “Mythal’enaste.”

“Mythal’enaste.” Aevani murmured back, closing her eyes briefly. Her mother was clutching half of a green braided knot, the other half tucked safely inside Aev’s undershirt. The rope was the first thing Aevani had ever crafted, years ago, when she was barely a child. This meant that to matter where they went, she would always be welcomed back home.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this nearly a year ago.....probably gonna upload a lot of my shorter bits n pieces tonight ^^
> 
> Kudos appreciated!  
> learn more about Aevani here: http://aevani.tumblr.com/cards


End file.
